


Happy Fuckin' Birthday.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Shameless, Smut, mickey milkovich experimenting, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: Quick break from The Sand In Your Shoe because this occurred to me!I know the months don’t add up to the events in canon perfectly, but this idea popped into my head and I went for it anyway. Set around Season 2/3. Enjoy :) xx





	Happy Fuckin' Birthday.

“Hey! Hey, Gallagher!”

Lip glances up from his phone and gives the young man walking towards him a suspicious look. Fresh out of juvie and walking as if he owns the damn world, Mickey fucking Milkovich.

“Do I need to run?”

Lip calls and Mickey shrugs

“If you do, I’ll break your fuckin’ legs.”

“And if I don’t run?”

“What’s with twenty fuckin’ questions? Just say hello like a normal person.”

“Hello Mickey.”

Lip sighs and puts his phone away. What the fuck Ian sees in Milkovich, Lip will never know. The guy is short as shit, walks like he’s got something jammed up his ass – which he might, Lip reasons – and seriously needs to learn basic hygiene. Lip stands up from leaning on his fence and quickly looks over his shoulder to make sure he can run if it turns out he needs to.

“It’s Ian’s birthday soon, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well … what the fuck does he want? Army shit?”

“Why would you get my brother a present, Mickey?”

Lip sees alarm flicker across Mickey’s face but it is gone in the time it takes for Mickey to blink and the look is replaced with one of open hostility.

“Mandy wants to get him something – that OK with you?”

“Oh, sure, if it’s Mandy …”

“Wipe that shit eating grin off your face or I will remove it for you, fuckhead.”

Even if Lip was not a certified genius, he would be able to tell that he is on very thin ice and he holds up his hands apologetically.

“Ian likes army stuff sure, but he also likes cigarettes and beer, might be more appropriate.”

“Nah man, she wants to get him something like … ah … like something he can keep.”

Mickey shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip, rolling it self-consciously between his teeth. Lip smirks and draws on his cigarette, enjoying the other boy’s uneasiness. It is funny really, if someone had asked Lip, he would have said that he didn’t realise that Mickey was capable of emotions beyond anger and malice but actually watching him talk about Ian, there is a carousel of different feelings playing out that are visible for the whole world to see. If anyone actually bothered to look at Mickey for more than a couple of seconds, Lip thinks, his secret would be well and truly be out.

“You play much poker, Mickey?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason, just wondered. Anyway,”

Lip smiles and cocks his head to the side thinking.

“Ian is careful with his lighters. I reckon if Mandy got him a nice one, he’d take care of it.”

Mickey considers this for a moment and then nods curtly

“Alright. Thanks. I’ll tell her.”

“Want me to tell her? I’m seeing her later.”

“What? No! I mean … yeah. Whatever. Do what the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit.”

Mickey frowns at Lip and turns on his heel, walking back up the block.

*

Ian wakes up and heads downstairs. There is the familiar hushing and suspicious silence as he gets half-way down and he grins to himself before arranging his face into sleepy, unawareness and plodding down the last few steps.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The chorus greets him as soon as his foot hits the kitchen floor and he is bundled in a proper Gallagher group hug. There are pancakes, balloons, and a small pile of presents on the table.

Ian never goes into school on his birthday, it’s kind of his whole thing and as it is the only time he plays hookie, Fiona has let him do it since he was ten. They eat together and watch Ian open his ‘big’ present, a pair of Haix military boots that everyone had chipped in for then there is the usual chaos of the family getting ready to leave the house.

Finally, Ian is on his own and he turns his attention to the rest of his gifts. There is a knitted scarf from Debbie and Fiona in soft green wool, a drawing from Liam, a knife from Carl that looks like it has seen better days and Ian makes a mental note to ask his little brother where he found it, a bottle of Makers Mark from Lip and a card with twenty dollars in it which is signed ‘Dad’ in Fiona’s neat script.

Ian pockets the twenty and picks up the last package. It is small and wrapped in cheap metallic blue gift wrap; a folded scrunch of paper taped to the front opens up to reveal the words ‘Ian. Happy Birthday. M.’

Ian’s heart thuds in his chest and his palms slick with sweat. It is not Monica’s extravagant penmanship, all loops and swirls, nor is it Mandy’s deliberately spiky lettering. He only knows one other ‘M’ who might send him a birthday present. The words are almost carved into the paper, created with swift, sure strokes and a heavy hand.

Ian sniffs at the package but any possible trace of the senders scent has long since faded.

He almost doesn’t want to open it but he also wants to see what Mickey has sent him. He pours himself another coffee and sips it slowly before taking a deep breath and judiciously peeling off the slip of attached to the gift. He puts in in his front pocket and unwraps the box slowly.

The gift wrap peels away to reveal a smooth black zippo box. Ian opens it carefully and tips the contents into the palm of his hand. It is a simple steel lighter, elegantly crafted and on one side, the initials ‘I. C. G’ have been painstakingly carved across the middle. Ian flips it over, for a split second he is disappointed, and then he sees in the corner, a very small, neat ‘M’ and his heart soars.

He pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text:

‘It’s perfect! Thank you! Best birthday gift ever!’

Moments later his phone vibrates on the table – Mickey must have been waiting for him to text.

‘Welcome. You home?’

‘Yes. Come over?’

‘K’

Ian dashes upstairs and tugs his bed into some sort of order, he lies down and tries to get into a pose that is both casual and impossibly sexy before realising that he’ll have to go downstairs to let Mickey in anyway.

He delves into his backpack and meticulously lines up lube, condoms and cigarettes on his dresser, Mickey is likely to want them in that order and it pleases Ian no end that he knows this.

There is a knock on the door and Ian sprints down to answer it like an over excited puppy. Mickey is stood on the step, tongue already set in the corner of his mouth and dick very visibly straining against the crotch of his pants.

“Happy fuckin' Birthday, Firecrotch.”

His smirk changes to a look of shocked irritation as Ian throws his arms around him.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Ian babbles as Mickey futilely pushes at his chest.

“What the … get the fuck off me, idiot!”

“It’s perfect, Mickey!”

Ian finally pulls back to smile down into Mickey’s scowling face and finds himself roughly hustled inside as Mickey bundles him in and kicks the door shut behind them.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that again, you hear me?”

“Sure, sorry, just … really happy.”

Ian can’t stop smiling and Mickey holds his grouch for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and giving into a small smirk

“Yeah well, glad you like it. It’s not stolen either.”

“Really?”

Ian looks as if he is about to throw himself on Mickey again and the shorter man quickly sidesteps him, moving over to peer at the photos on the mantle piece, wanting to get away from the windows before Gallagher does any other gay shit.

“You eat already?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know you’d be coming or I’d have saved you something.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Was gonna buy you breakfast or something if you hadn’t.”

“Oh.”

The pancakes turn to ash in Ian’s stomach and he doesn’t think he has ever regretted anything as much as he regrets eating them. He looks at Mickey hopefully and gives him a lopsided smile

“We could get something later?”

“Yeah whatever man, I ain’t got anything on today.”

Ian can’t quite believe that Mickey would have kept his schedule free specifically because it is Ian’s birthday, but he is not completely beyond hoping and the thought makes his heart flutter. Mickey adjusts the crotch of his jeans uncomfortably as he turns back to Ian.

“Got somethin’ else for you by the way.”

His grin is the most beautiful thing Ian has ever seen, all white teeth and pink tongue and sweetly arching eyebrows over perfect blue eyes. Ian wants to tell him this but pushes the idea away and tries to get himself onto Mickey’s level, it’s not exactly a challenge and he feels a little swagger creeping into his stride as he approaches Mickey.

“Two presents? Must be my lucky day.”

“Uh-huh. Get upstairs, Gallagher.”

Mickey jerks his head toward the stairs but Ian grabs his shoulders and pushes him forward, slapping Mickey’s ass sharply

“You go first; I want to watch you walk.”

Mickey ducks his head and his grin becomes almost shy but he obligingly walks ahead of Ian who takes a firm grip on Mickey’s hips and makes an appreciative noise at the back of his throat.

“Damn, your ass is perfect.”

Mickey cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder at Ian and doesn’t reply. Ian considers this progress in itself and smiles. When they get into the room Mickey closes the curtains which is unusual in an upstairs room, even for him.

“Ya know, birthdays come once a year.”

“I’ve had a few. I know how it works.”

Ian laughs and Mickey raises his middle finger as he closes the bedroom door. He is gnawing at one side of his lip and looking pretty damn nervous all of a sudden.

“Yeah so … I figure something … nice for you is ok as like a one-time thing.”

Ian draws his brows together in confusion

“Okay…?”

Mickey closes his eyes for a second, clearly making up his mind and then all at once, drops to his knees in front of Ian, his hands tugging roughly at Ian’s belt and the buttons of his pants. Ian is too shocked to do anything for a moment and then he begins helping Mickey, who’s fingers are trembling too much to get the small fly buttons open.

“Are you sure?”

“You fuckin’ want this or not?”

“Yes I do.”

Ian nods hastily and Mickey give him a curt nod in response before licking his lips and contemplating the object now quivering an inch from his nose. Ian fixes his eyes on the ceiling, patiently waiting for Mickey to decide exactly what he is going to do with it. He is willing himself to stillness, trying not to even breathe too loud for fear of spooking Mickey.

Eventually, after what feels like an age, he feels the tip of Mickey’s tongue briefly flick against the slit and makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, trying to keep still and not plunge his hands into the dark whorls of Mickey’s hair. Far from scaring his lover, the noise actually seems to encourage Mickey, who tentatively takes Ian into his mouth, then swallows a little too enthusiastically, and promptly chokes.

“Ugh! Fuck!”

“Shit! You OK?”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, I’m concentrating.”

“Sure. Sorry.”

Ian’s lip is shaking like a leaf but he knows this is over if he laughs so he uses everything he’s got to push it back.

Mickey tries again, a little less exuberantly and begins to find his rhythm. It is not the most expertly delivered job he has ever had but it is definitely up there in terms of the most enthusiastic. Ian places an experimental hand on Mickey’s head, letting his fingers stretch through the black lengths. Mickey makes a noise of his own and Ian shudders happily.

“Use your hand for the rest of the length.”

He urges and Mickey complies instantly. Ian gives it a moment, chances a look down, and is met with an intent blue gaze looking up at him and knuckles that say ‘FUCK’ wrapped around his cock.

“Aww Jesus, Mickey.”

It is all too much. Ian feels so much love in his heart for this unusual, beautiful and passionate man that he can barely stand it.

“Mick, I’m going to … I can’t hold it …”

Mickey’s eyebrows lower a fraction, an expression that even from Ian’s vantage point clearly spells determination and Ian loses all control, dragging Mickey closer by the hair, his body convulsing and hips slamming forward.

*

A little while later as they lay side by side in Ian’s bed, sharing a cigarette for no reason other than because they want to, Ian toying with his new lighter and Mickey toying with the silky hair on Ian’s thigh, Mickey clears his throat

“So … uh … was that OK?”

“You know it was! The way you clenched …”

“Nah, not that.”

Mickey shakes his head but he is smiling happily and clearly as pleased with the results of that escapade as Ian is.

“I meant the first thing … what I did.”

“Oh!”

Ian looks across at Mickey. His face in profile is almost achingly perfect and Ian wishes he could kiss him but contents himself with a sweep of his thumb over one darkly stubbled cheekbone.

“Yeah! Shit! Yeah that was amazing, Mick. Thank you.”

“Cool. Yeah, I never did that before.”

“Really?”

Ian doesn’t mean it the way it sounds and Mickey glares at him for a second before settling.

“Course not. That’s like the gayest of the gay. It’s fuckin’ sick, man.”

“But you did it for me.”

Ian smiles coyly and Mickey purses his lips before nodding.

“Yeah. I did it for you. Don’t get fuckin’ used to it though. I’m not your mouth whore.”

“I know.”

Ian passes the smoke back to Mickey and they lie in silence for a minute or two.

“You wanna get some lunch?”

Mickey asks finally

“Sure. Why not?”

Ian feels like he is floating in some sort of perfect bubble and for once Mickey is in it with him. It is shaping up to be one of the best days of his life. Happy fuckin’ birthday, indeed!


End file.
